


Heated Gaze

by angelsfalling16



Series: 20 First Kisses [16]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, SnowBaz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2020-05-14 11:52:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19272727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelsfalling16/pseuds/angelsfalling16
Summary: Baz dreams of a future with Simon but knows that he can never have what he wants. But when Simon starts acting strangely, Baz begins to wonder if he was wrong.





	Heated Gaze

**Baz**

Simon has this look in his eyes as he steps - no _prowls_ \- toward me, and even though I’ve seen that look a thousand times, it never fails to get my heart racing. It’s the look he gives me when he’s either up to something or is about to do something terribly romantic. Or both.

He backs me up into the counter of our kitchen, and I hop up on top of it, allowing him to step in between my legs. I pull him up against me, wrapping my arms around his waist, and I kiss him soundly.

The kiss is simple and familiar. We’ve done this same thing countless times, but I’ll never get tired of it. So much has happened between us, and we’ve spent so much of our lives together, even if we weren’t on great terms for most of it. But it’s this one simple thing that has me melting in his arms.

I’m in love with him, and it has been my absolute pleasure to spend the past few years with him and learning how deeply he returns those feelings for me. I never thought that I could have something this good with Simon Snow, and I’m so glad that I was wrong.

He bites my lower lip, pulling a groan from me, before moving his mouth downward, kissing along the line of my jaw before attaching his mouth to my neck.

“We should be unpacking,” I murmur, even as I tilt my head to give him better access when he starts to suck on my neck.

We moved into this flat together a few days ago, and we’ve barely managed to unpack anything. I had planned on spending all day getting as much done as possible, but Simon seems to have other plans.

“This is more fun.” He says into my skin before licking over the mark that he just left.

I open my mouth to argue that we can have fun later, but a moan escapes instead as he bites down on my shoulder.

“Simon,” I gasp.

“Yes?” He asks, pulling on the hem of my shirt, and I lift my arms to let him pull it off of me. His mouth is instantly on me again, kissing along my collar and starting to trail farther down.

Instead of protesting more like I planned to, I slip my hands underneath his shirt and begin exploring his warm back, fingers trailing over the moles that I don’t need to see to find because I’ve memorized every inch of his skin.

“I love you, Simon,” I tell him.

Simon leans back to smile at me, but there’s something off about it. It doesn’t feel real, and I start to say something but stop as I look around me. Everything has disappeared, and it’s just the two of us in the dark. Then, Simon is pulling away from me, a dark look on his face.

“I know that you love me, Baz, but I don’t love you back. How could I? You’re a _monster_.” With that, he turns and walks away.

I call after him, but no sound comes out. I try again, but it still doesn’t work. He’s getting too far away to hear me now anyway, but when I try to go after him, I can’t move. It’s like I’m rooted to the spot, stuck to the cabinet.

“Simon,” I yell, wanting him to come back, but it’s too late. He’s gone.

***

My eyes snap open, and the racing beat of my heart begins to slow as I look around the room. Reality sinks in as I see where I am.

I’m back at Watford, and everything thing with Simon was all a dream. We aren’t together, and he definitely doesn’t love me.

He is sleeping a couple of feet away in his own bed, and I’m in my own bed in our room at Watford. We’re still rivals, and we’ve never even kissed. So much of that dream felt real, though.

It’s not the first time that I’ve dreamt about having a future with Simon, but usually in my dreams, it ends happier with him than that.

 _You’re a monster._ His last words ring in my head, on repeat, getting louder and louder. I pull my pillow up to cover my ears, trying to block it out. Somehow, that actually works.

I turn toward the window. It’s still dark out, so it’s too early to get up. I should try to get more sleep. All I need to do is forget about that dream.

I pull the blankets tighter around me and close my eyes. Everything is quiet now except for the sound of Simon’s breathing, which helps lull me back to sleep, like it does most nights.

Luckily, I don’t dream any more of Simon during that night, and I when I wake up, he’s already gone from the room.

I’ve all but forgotten the dream from last night by the time I walk down to breakfast, but as I walk across the dining hall, I feel the heat of a gaze following me. I turn and find Simon tracking my every move with his eyes. It’s nothing unusual, so I just sneer at him and turn away, ignoring him.

It’s the same in all of our classes, though. I’m used to him watching me all of the time, but this feels different. It’s like he’s waiting for the right moment to pounce on his prey. He stays silent, but I keep waiting for him to snap, for the familiar wave of magic that precedes one of our numerous fights.

It doesn’t come, and there’s no sign of it all day, which is more than unusual. Even when we aren’t fighting, I can always feel his magic lying just underneath the surface. It’s a familiarity that comes from constantly being around him.

But today, it’s almost like he has found some way to keep calm and control his magic. It should be a good thing, but it’s eerie the way he seems to be everywhere that I go, watching me from just around the corner but keeping his distance.

By dinner time, I’ve grown uncomfortable and wary of his every movement. Though, it isn’t until we’re back in our own room that Simon makes a move - and a bold one. It’s like he was waiting for me there, and he has me backed up against the door before I even know what’s happening.

“What are you doing, Snow?” I sneer at him.

“I know the truth,” he whispers, and the look in his eyes is one that is both familiar, yet not. The one from my dream.

“What are you talking about?”

“I know how you feel about me.”

“Well, it isn’t a secret that I hate you, is it?”

“You don’t hate me. I know that for sure.”

I force myself to keep my gaze locked with his so that I don’t get caught staring at his mouth, which is so close that all I have to do is lean slightly forward to feel his lips on mine.

“You don’t know anything, Snow.”

I push past him, careful not to trigger the Anathema, and shut myself in the en suite. There, I take a breath and try to figure out what on earth Simon was talking about.

There is no way that he knows that I am in love with him, but he seems to think that he knows something about me. I don’t know what makes him think that because I haven’t done anything to tip him off. I haven’t done anything different. He’s the one who started to act strangely. I just have to hope that this little confrontation is the end of it.

***

I thought that I was going to be done with Snow watching me after yesterday’s conversation, but I was mistaken. If anything, he’s more determined, and he is no longer trying to hide it, which can be seen by the way that he tries to start up a conversation with me every chance that he gets.

“Morning, Baz,” he says as we walk to our first class. I pick up my pace and keep walking, ignoring him. It’s much too early to deal with his accusations.

He doesn’t give up, though. A couple of hours later, he manages to corner me between classes.

“What do you want, Snow?” I ask him, not looking at him, hoping to find a way to escape without having to get physical with him.

“For you to tell me the truth.”

“About what?”

“How you feel about me.”

My eyes snap to his, but I keep a blank expression.

“I hate you,” I tell him, again.

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes. I do.”

“You like me.”

“What possibly gave you that impression?” I ask, honestly wanting to know.

“Just something that you said.”

I’m positive that I’ve never said anything to him that would make him think that I like him. I’m very careful about that, always making sure that I put up a wall between me and my feeling for him. There is no way that I let something slip.

“I don’t like you.”

“Oh, but you do. You even like me more than as just a friend. I’m certain of it.”

“What makes you think that I have feelings for you?”

“I don’t think. I know.” He sounds very sure of himself, and he must be to keep confronting me like this.

“What do you mean?” I ask warily.

“I heard you. The other night,” he adds when I just look at him. “You were sleeping, but you said ‘I love you, Simon.’”

I try not to react, but my heart starts beating so loudly that if he says anything else, I don’t hear him. I can’t believe that I spoke aloud in my sleep.

“I don’t love you,” I say. Then, I shove him, not hard enough to hurt him but enough to make him unsteady on his feet so that I can make my escape.

Simon leaves me alone for a while after that, but I can still feel him watching me. It isn’t until after lunch that he tries to talk to me again, and I’m really tense the entire time up to that point, waiting for him to say something in front of our classmates. I don’t know why he hasn’t done it already. He has enough to out me, whether they believe it or not, so why hasn’t he done it yet?

Maybe he’s waiting for the right time, the perfect moment to completely humiliate me. I wish that he would just do it already so that I can deal with the aftermath.

I don’t know how many will care that I’m gay, but this wasn’t how I wanted people to find out. And I never wanted Simon to find out how I feel about him.

“Can’t you just leave me alone?” I ask him when he falls into step beside me after lunch.

“Not until you tell me the truth.”

“It was just a dream.”

“But why were you dreaming about saying that you loved me?”

I stop walking then and pull him off to the side, out of earshot of other students walking past. A few of them eye us with interest, but I sneer at them to make them keep walking.

“Perhaps you misunderstood,” I hiss at Simon.

“It’s a little late for you to deny that you said it.”

“I can still deny that it’s true.”

“But I won’t believe you.”

“Why not?”

He grins wickedly at me, and again, that look returns as he trails a finger down along my jaw. I try not to react to it, but my breathing hitches. From what Simon says next, he must have noticed.

“That’s why.”

 _When did Simon get so bold?_ I wonder.

I swallow audibly as he simply turns and walks away, not trying to press it any further. I know that he’s not done, though. He doesn’t give up easily, especially when he knows that he’s right.

I shouldn’t like him more because of all of this that he’s doing. I should be angry. But the closer he gets to me like that, the closer I get to just admitting the truth. There has to be a reason that he’s doing this, and something makes me think that it isn’t just to tell the whole school. He wants something. Which might actually be worse. He probably plans to black mail me. I just have to figure out what it will take to keep him quiet.

***

I don’t see Simon again until he sits down next to me at dinner. I had begun to hope that he had given up on me, but I knew that he hadn’t. This must be the moment that he plans to either tell everyone what he knows or leverage it against me.

“Go away, Snow,” I tell him, not even looking at him.

“No.”

“Like I keep telling you, I don’t like you, which means that I don’t want to hang out with you.”

“And like _I’ve_ said, I don’t believe you.”

“You can believe whatever you want as long as you go away.”

“Not yet.”

“What do you want?”

He seems to ignore me as he takes a bite of his food, chewing it slowly before he speaks again.

“Nothing,” he says, but I don’t believe him. “I went about it the wrong way yesterday, confronting you like that, so, today, I’m trying something different.”

“By bothering me?”

“By being nice to you.”

“Why?”

“I can see why you wouldn’t want to tell me. We’ve never been friends, but maybe that can change.”

“And again, I ask, why?”

“Don’t you get tired of fighting all of the time?”

I do, but I still don’t understand why knowing that I like him suddenly makes him want to change things. He has to want something from me.

“I already told you that what you heard was just a dream. It doesn’t mean anything. It definitely doesn’t mean that it’s true.”

He shakes his head. “I refuse to believe that.”

“Why?”

“Because if you really hated me, you wouldn’t be letting me sit here.”

“Maybe I don’t want to get kicked out of school for fighting you.”

He scoffs. “That’s never stopped you before.”

“Still doesn’t mean I have feelings for you.”

“Okay, but what were you dreaming about then? Why were you saying that you loved me?”

“I-I don’t remember.”

“Something tells me that you’re lying.”

“I guess you’ll never know.”

“Are you saying that if I kissed you right now, you’d push me away?”

“Yes. There are people around.”

“Right. We wouldn’t want them to get the wrong idea or to find out how you really feel.”

I glare at him. He keeps twisting my words around. He leans in so that his mouth is close to my ear, and I hold my breath, forcing myself to be very still.

“If an audience is your problem, why don’t we get out of here?”

I close my eyes for a brief moment, and when I open them, he’s watching me with a knowing look.

“The audience isn’t the problem. The problem is that I don’t want to kiss you.”

“You know, I might have believed you if you hadn’t been staring at my mouth the entire you were saying that.”

I want to hit him.

“Seriously, Snow, what do you want from me?”

“I don’t want anything but the truth.”

“What is going to take to make you believe that I don’t like you?”

“What’s it going to take to get you to admit that you do?”

“Why do you care? So that you can mock me?”

“Is that really what you think I want to do?”

“I don’t have any idea what you want.” I just barely manage to keep my voice down. I don’t want to draw attention to us. I suppose I’m lucky that Dev and Niall haven’t shown up yet.

“I just said I wanted to kiss you, and you think that I want to make fun of you?”

“You didn’t say you wanted to kiss me. You were asking what I would do if you did.”

“Fine. I’m saying it now.” He leans in close again, dropping his voice to a low murmur that fits his gaze on me perfectly. “I want to kiss you.”

“What?” I ask stupidly, stunned by the admission.

“I want to kiss you, Baz. I’ve wanted to kiss you for a long time.”

“Why did you wait until now to tell me?” I ask, wanting to believe him, but knowing that I shouldn’t.

“I never thought you would feel the same, but then I heard you call out in your sleep, and it gave me hope.”

“Hope for what?”

“Baz,” he growls. “I’m saying that I feel the same way about you.”

I want to ask him why. Why would he possibly like me? Instead, I find myself leaning forward and kissing him. It’s a dangerous risk when a part of me still thinks that he’s trying to use this against me, but I can’t help myself. He’s saying all of the things that I’ve always wanted him to say.

He pulls away after a moment with a smile on his face. A real smile, nothing like what I saw in my dream.

“I thought you said that you didn’t want an audience,” he says.

“I don’t care what anyone else thinks.”

“Good. I really like you, and I don’t want their opinion to affect that.”

He looks at me like he did in my dream as he moved towards me, that look of heated desire mixed with adoration, and I believe him. Simon snow likes me - maybe even loves me - and I couldn’t be happier.

“I really like you, too,” I tell him before kissing him again, not caring who sees.


End file.
